Right to Kill

  Nathan could’ve shouldered his weapon and dropped the man from here, but if Harv had to kill the rabbit, he’d need the sniper alive. His .308 delivered a lot of energy; even an extremity wound could cause a bleed-out. He’d seen it before. As long as he kept track of his prey, he had the option. Plus, he could keep Harv and LG from landing in the crosshairs.

  “I’ve got eyes on the shooter,” he said. “He’s heading upslope.”

  Harv asked, “LG, where are you?”

  “I’m just entering the trees north of the parking lot.”

  “Keep going north and cross ACH.”

  “I didn’t have time to put my rifle case away,” Nathan said. “It’s sitting next to my car. When you collar the rabbit, make sure someone gets back there ASAP. Also pick up the dropped AK, don’t leave it there. We’re only a few miles from Wrightwood. If there’s a sheriff’s substation, response time could be fairly quick.”

  “I’ve got this guy,” Harv said. “He’s not getting away. Let’s send LG back for your car. She can meet me on ACH once I’ve collared him.”

  “Sounds good,” Nathan said. “LG, you copy that?”

  “On my way back.”

  “My shooter’s heading up the slope in a big hurry. Seems to know where he’s going. Unless he tries to double back and line up on you guys, I’m going to keep following and try to intercept him.”

  “Do you want me to do anything with the dead guy next to the SUV?” LG asked.

  Harv said, “Leave him there.”

  Nathan stayed in the trees to the left side of the chairlift. Every so often, the shooter stopped for a breather and looked downslope, but there was no way he’d see Nathan. Not without night vision or a TI.

  Nathan was a ghost.

  Harvey’s runner seemed to be in pretty good shape. Fortunately, he was equally fit and had no trouble keeping up.

  He wasn’t overly worried about Nate. His friend had plenty of experience. Together, they’d chased adversaries through deserts, jungles, beaches, valleys, mountains, and cityscapes—with and without snow.

  Harvey knew it was critical to not lose sight of his man for more than a few seconds at a time, but in this forest environment, it wouldn’t be possible to keep his prey in continuous visual contact. The trees weren’t terribly dense, but big enough to hide behind. In his favor, the twelve inches of fresh snow made trailing his mark easy.

  He estimated the distance between them at 150 feet; an easy shot, but Harvey didn’t want to shoot him if he didn’t have to. The fact that the guy had dropped his weapon and fled meant he probably didn’t have much stomach for fighting. But then again he’d been willing to gun down everyone in that taxi.

  Harvey lost sight of his mark again and ducked behind a tree. If the guy had a handgun, he could find himself taking fire.

  Putting himself into his prey’s shoes, he knew the guy was running for his life with no wheels and no place to get shelter. He hadn’t anticipated being chased on foot, so he was ill prepared for a prolonged exposure to the cold.

  Harvey had given up issuing verbal commands to stop. The guy had ignored all of them. He hadn’t seen the guy try to make another call, but he could be doing that right now. Harvey aimed at the man’s last known location and popped off three rounds.

  That did the trick. The guy came out from behind a tree and began running east, nothing in his hands. If he possessed a handgun, it ought to be visible.

  Harvey changed direction, moving laterally toward the building on the north side of the highway. If his man intended to double back, Harvey planned to intercept him before he got there.

  “Harv, my shooter just cut to the left. I think he’s heading for the East Base of the ski resort. I’m closing on his position. Right now, he’s no threat to you and LG. I’ll make sure that doesn’t change.”

  “My rabbit’s also running east. Have you seen your man try to make a call?”

  “Not yet. He seems more concerned about putting some distance between us. For now, he doesn’t know he’s being tailed but that will change soon enough if he tries to use his phone, if he hasn’t already. LG, the keys should still be in the ignition.”

  “I’ve got your rifle case and the AK secured in the trunk and I’m about to pull out of the parking lot. Do you want me to stage somewhere? Sooner or later, employees are going to start showing up for work and there could be a deputy on the way.”

  LG had just voiced what he was thinking. The sooner LG got his vehicle out of there, the better. “Find a place to park on the west loop. Leave the headlights off when you drive out.”

  “Will do.”

  Nathan looked up the slope and marveled at the technology in his hand. The shooter looked like a yellowish ghost against a deep blue and purple background. Thermal devices don’t register ambient light, only temperature variances. A thermal imager worked just as well in pitch blackness as it did in broad daylight.

  “My runner’s doubling back toward the building on the north side of ACH,” Harv said. “LG, stop about halfway to the highway. I want him to keep going in the same direction.”

  “I’m the only car around. Nobody else is parked on the shoulder down here.”

  “If any deputies arrive from Wrightwood, they should turn into the east loop of the parking lot. Stay put for now and wait for Harv’s signal to pick him up. I doubt they’ll come in silent. We’ll hear sirens.”

  “Copy. Standing by.”

  “Harv, if you have to shoot your man to keep him from making a phone call, do it. We need him alive, but don’t risk your life over it. I’ll do the same with my shooter.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” LG said. “The SUV might have an address on its registration. I think it’s worth risking a look. I can be back at your sedan inside of a minute.”

  “Harv?”

  “The SUV could be registered anywhere or it might be a rental, but yeah, I think it’s worth a look. LG, get the license plate as well. Cantrell can run it.”

  “Don’t spend more than thirty seconds at the SUV.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Harv, even if LG comes up with an address, we should still take our men alive if possible.”

  “Agreed. I don’t think my runner has a weapon. He’s been empty-handed since he bolted from the SUV.”

  “My man’s still heading toward the East Base. It’s possible they’ve got a second vehicle over there.”

  “If that’s where you end up, we’ll pick you up,” Harv said.

  Nathan clicked his radio. He half wished he could just shoot this guy and be done with it. An icy thought, he knew, but this clown had tried to snipe them and come within an eyelash of succeeding.

  Acutely aware of time, Nathan knew they couldn’t afford prolonged foot chases. If Bustamonte sent these guys to kill whoever showed up in the taxi, he’d be expecting a call or text soon. Nathan believed less than five minutes had passed since Bustamonte’s men had shot up the taxi. Once they collared one of these guys, they’d force him to call Tomas with an update. Nathan would have the guy tell Bustamonte they’d been forced to chase one of the taxi’s occupants into the trees, hence the delay.

  He gradually closed the distance by angling up the slope to his left. Every time the guy looked back, Nathan froze and heard only the low rumble of the snow cats’ diesel engines. So far, he didn’t detect any sirens. If gunfire had been reported, any deputies stationed in Wrightwood should’ve been dispatched by now. The more likely possibility was that someone had heard the gunfire, reported it, but there weren’t any deputies or CHP cruisers in the area. There was no way to know how much time they had unless he called Cantrell, and for the time being, he couldn’t afford the distraction.

  He looked upslope with the thermal and saw his man standing still. The guy appeared to be listening for sound.

  Nathan pivoted his NV down.

  And saw a bright glow illuminating the man’s chest and face.

  Shit!

  Nathan brought his Sig up and a
ctivated its laser. A bright star of death blossomed on the man’s chest.

  The laser startled the guy and he dropped the phone. When he reached down to pick it up, Nathan fired.

  CHAPTER 27

  Nathan’s bullet flew true and landed in the hole the cell phone had made. The snow erupted in the guy’s face.

  “Don’t make me kill you!” he shouted. “All we want is information. Drop your rifle and put your hands on top of your head.”

  “No hablo inglés!”

  “No problema, hablo español.” He repeated his previous command in Spanish as he moved upslope.

  The man cursed in response.

  Continuing in Spanish, he said, “I could’ve killed you. I’ve tracked you since you left the chairlift.”

  The man didn’t move.

  Nathan fired again. The bullet exploded the snow between the man’s feet.

  “This is your last chance. Is Bustamonte worth dying for?”

  That seemed to get through. The man unslung his rifle, let it fall into the snow, and raised his hands. Nathan suddenly realized, this guy could be Bustamonte.

  “Hands on top of your head.”

  The man complied.

  “If you make any sudden moves, I’ll drop you where you stand. Clear?”

  “Yeah.”

  Keeping his laser painted on the guy, Nathan slowly worked his way farther up the slope and stopped twenty feet short. “Drop to your knees.”

  Nathan closed the distance and shoved the guy’s face into the snow. He put a knee on the man’s back, yanked one of his wrists behind his back, and held it there while he removed a pair of disposable cuffs from his waist pack. He used his penlight to look at the man’s face. Definitely not Tomas. He searched the man’s pockets and found a wallet, some keys, and a box of .30-06 ammo. Yep. It would’ve punched through his vest.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m the guy asking the questions.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  Nathan torqued the man’s arms to the dislocation point and received a grunt of pain. He heard LG’s radio traffic but didn’t respond.

  “What did I just say?”

  “I heard you. You’re the guy asking the questions.”

  “Where’s Bustamonte?”

  Harvey kept his runner in sight and kept closing the distance by cutting toward the building. His prey kept looking in the wrong direction. He was well out in front of the guy now. If the runner didn’t change direction, he’d be able to tackle him in the next ten seconds.

  That’s it . . . keep coming.

  The man continued to slog through the snow, looking over his shoulder.

  Harv got behind a large tree and waited. Although he could see his own footprints, his prey couldn’t. The near absence of light remained a huge advantage.

  Timing his move perfectly, he swung his arm like a baseball bat and clotheslined the guy across the chest.

  The man yelped in fear and landed flat on his ass.

  Harvey pounced and clocked the man’s jaw with an open hand. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him out, but it stunned him. Before the guy could recover, Harvey had him rolled and pinned.

  Two shots rang out from across the valley. He heard the pistol reports through his earpiece a full second before the actual sounds reached his position.

  While Harvey handcuffed his man, he listened to Nate’s exchange with the sniper.

  Keeping his voice low, he asked his man if he spoke English.

  The answer was no.

  In Spanish, Harvey said he had no reason to kill the man as long as he cooperated.

  “LG, I’ve got the rabbit in custody. Drive down to the entrance of the west loop. We’ll be there shortly.”

  Nathan’s sniper didn’t have the physical address, but he knew where Bustamonte was. Yes, Ursula was there, along with a personal bodyguard.

  He hauled the man upright and began marching him down the slope toward the highway. He’d heard Harv’s exchange with the rabbit and formulated a plan. Right now, they needed to clear the immediate area and find a secluded spot along the highway.

  They’d conduct quick field interrogations to be sure their stories matched.

  Nathan thought about testing the man’s assertion that he didn’t speak English, but decided it wasn’t necessary. He picked up the guy’s rifle and slung it next to his.

  “Harv, I’m giving you a line of sight to me. I’m about fifty yards west of the chairlift. Can you see my penlight?”

  “Hang on, I’m relocating a bit . . . I’ve got you.”

  “I’m walking my man downslope toward the highway.”

  “The registration is a bust,” LG said. “Hertz rental. I took the contract. There’s a garage door opener on the visor, though.”

  “Good work,” Nathan said. “Here’s what I have in mind, but we need to work quickly.”

  Linda hadn’t interrogated anyone in a long time, but Nathan admired how quickly she peeled their prisoners. She hadn’t gotten overly rough, but the two men had discovered how sensitive some of their nerve clusters were. As it turned out, they had no stomach for pain. After verifying their stories matched, Nathan secured the bigger of the two prisoners to a pine tree using a pair of disposable cuffs. The man was far enough from the highway that no one would see him and the gag in his mouth would prevent him from calling out for help. Nathan had, however, allowed the man he’d tied to the tree to wear a winter coat—which they’d found in the SUV. The other prisoner would accompany them to the cabin in the SUV.

  They assured the handcuffed man that as long as everything checked out, they’d come back for him. If he’d lied about the twins’ whereabouts, they’d execute the man coming with them and the cuffed man’s decomposed body would go undiscovered until summer. As it turned out, the two men were cousins so they had a strong motivation to tell the truth. Perhaps it was Nathan’s offhand comment about hungry bears wandering the woods that sealed the deal.

  Nathan drove the SUV out to the highway while Harv followed them in his Lincoln. No cops yet, which was a blessing. They’d successfully forced their prisoner to call Bustamonte with an update. Bustamonte had sounded irritated at the foot chase, hence the delay, but pleased at the news that his men had killed everyone in the taxi.

  Since they had no idea if Tomas could see the highway or surrounding roads from the cabin, they dropped Nathan’s car off at a mom-and-pop gas station. Driving up to the cabin in two vehicles wasn’t an option. The men they’d interrogated said they’d only brought the SUV. Before resuming their drive, all three of them quickly stripped off their ski clothing.

  This was their first real chance to update Cantrell since the action at the ski resort, so Nathan asked Harv to do it. Nathan gathered from hearing Harv’s end that Cantrell had changed her mind and decided to keep Delta active, in an emergency capacity only, but its ETA was twenty minutes at best. By his estimate, they were already a few minutes behind schedule. If they didn’t arrive at the cabin within the next two or three minutes, Tomas would be gone, or waiting to ambush them.

  He followed their prisoner’s directions along a narrow street lined with pines and small, cabin-like homes with fenced yards. This tiny mountain community of Wrightwood looked like it could be anywhere in the country. The farther south they went, the more sparse the houses became.

  The man told Nathan to turn left into the next driveway.

  He noticed something right away: no tire tracks in the fresh snow.

  It was obvious no vehicle had come out of here since the latest snowfall.

  He hit the brakes and threw the SUV into park.

  In English Nathan said, “Cut this idiot’s balls off before we shoot him. They fed us a story; there’re no tire tracks in the driveway.”

  “Wait!” the guy cried. “There’s two driveways going up there. I took the shorter way down.”

  “I thought you didn’t speak English.”

  The man pursed his lips.

  “Why sho
uld we believe anything you’ve told us?”

  “I was scared.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that. What else are you lying about?”

  “Nothing, I swear.”

  Nathan was skeptical. “Where’s the other driveway?”

  “It’s farther up the road, maybe two hundred meters.”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s the truth.”

  Nathan kept going, passing two driveways on the right that led to small cabins.

  “How much farther?”

  “It’s the next one on the left.”

  “I really hope he’s lying,” LG said.

  “I’m not lying!”

  Nathan saw several tire tracks coming out of the driveway, but there was no sign of any cabin. The driveway sloped upward, but not too steeply. The SUV ought to make it without losing traction. To be certain this was the right place, he pulled to a stop and asked Harv to get out and check the SUV’s treads against the tire tracks.

  His friend issued a thumbs-up and got back in.

  “See, I told you.”

  “Make the call,” Nathan said.

  Harv jammed his suppressed Sig under the man’s chin. “This isn’t our car. We don’t care if your blood, brains, and skull fragments decorate it. Are you the person who normally talks to Tomas?”

  “No, we all do.”

  “You sure you got your lines straight?”

  “I know what to say,” the man said.

  Nathan turned in his seat. “If you go off script, it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you normally put it on speaker?”

  “No, I mean, yes, when I’m driving. I didn’t try to connect to the Bluetooth.”

  “Do you speak Spanish with Tomas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, make the call.”

  Nathan watched the man closely. Since he was nervous, he’d be acting a little different from normal, but Nathan could usually tell when someone was cooking up a story.

  “I’m at the driveway.”

  “Ursy needs a haircut,” Tomas said over the phone’s speaker.

  He mouthed two words to Harv: code phrase.